


Of Monsters and Mirrors

by tangerine (arte)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Episode: s01e08 Fromage, Gen, Human Hannibal, Season/Series 01, Vampire Will, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 16:45:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5673151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arte/pseuds/tangerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will gets turned while he's sleepwalking. Already a hot mess, Will doesn't notice that he's become a vampire until he crashes into Hannibal's office.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Monsters and Mirrors

Will finds himself on the road at night, barefooted, clad only in his undershirt and briefs, shivering. All things considered, it's all normal.

What's not normal is that his mouth tastes like blood and Winston is growling at his side, his teeth shining red.

"Oh, God, Winston," Will crouches down, looking around to see if anyone is injured and unconscious. No one is. Luckily, Winston seems uninjured, too.

Winston nuzzles into him, all worried whine. Will's heart melts. He decides then and there to believe that Winston's attack must have been warranted.

"Let's go home," Will whispers, ruffling Winston's head. He stands up. He hopes no one will stumble into him until he can get to his house. His shirt is bloody from what has been on Winston's fur and he doesn't know how to explain this. People would think he's joking if he pleads ignorance due to sleepwalking. 

-

After washing Winston, Will takes his own shower. He turns off the knob and comes out, fetching his towel. He glances at the mirror as he dries his hair and-

The towel is free floating in the mirror. Will frowns and takes a step closer, even wipes the moisture off of the mirror. The scene doesn't change. He's still not in the mirror. The towel is up in the air all by itself.

Will looks up at the ceiling and sighs. This is all needlessly dramtic and symbolic. He knows he's losing himself. His mind doesn't needs to show it like this.

He roughly rubs at his hair. One good thing about his normally shaggy look is that no one would notice it if he came to work ungroomed because he couldn't fucking see himself in the mirror.

-

Will didn't exactly expect things to get better after that since that's not how his life works, but he didn't think the worse would hit him so rapidly. He almost whimpers as he comes out of the bathroom. He can hear his dogs' _heartbeats_ , of all the fucking things. The seven of them, all different tempo, running, skidding, uneven, **_bathum bathum bathum._**

And through out that maddeing symphony all he can think is, _God, I'm so hungry._

Will shakily shoos all his dogs outside, visions of him sinking his teeth into them blinding. _Winston would take care of them,_ he thinks. _Winston would know how to take them as far away from home as possible without getting lost._ He tells himself that over and over again as he drags himself to the kitchen. He pours cereal directly into his mouth, so incredibly hungry, but the hunger doesn't abate. 

He feels like going mad. He needs to do something or he would go mad. 

His eyes land on his phone. Aren't phones supposed to be distracting? He hopes so. Mindlessly, he grabs his phone and starts to scroll around.

 _Hannibal Lecter_ , the name flashes on the screen. He wasn't quite thinking ahead, but it's like the universe is telling him that he needs some goddamn help. But in the next second, Will realizes that the universe is simply kicking his ass into gear, telling him that he has a goddamn job to do. He remembers now how Hannibal hesitantly told him that his patient's friend might be related to the recent case. 

Will groans, burying his face into his hand. He digs his fingers into his scalp and takes a several deep breath. He can do this. He _has_ to do this. There's a murderer out there and if he can work through hallucinating a nightmarish stag in the room, he can work through the worst hunger in his life and weird fixation with blood.

When his stomach finally settles down a little, Will calls Jack and rattles off the address Hannibal gave him last night. He tells Jack to send the agents directly to the shop, that Will and the agents would be meeting there. Ostensibly, it's to save time. In truth, it's because Will can't imagine himself facing the swarming mass of people in Quantico right now.

 _In and out, it won't take long,_ Will thinks as he puts on his clothes.

-

Will feels like dying as he parks the car in front of the shop. When people walk by his car, he can hear their fucking heartbeats. His stomach is now gnawing itself. He's a bit overheated as well since he had to cover up every inch of himself with a hat and a scarf and gloves so that his skin wouldn't insist on being prickly about seeing sunlight. 

Suppressing his misery, Will leads the way and opens the shop's door. He knocks the inside of it sharply.

"Mr. Budge, may we come in?" Will asks. He hopes that this odd manner of knocking would alert any possible customers that they have to get out immediately.

"What's this about?" Budge asks as he appears from the corner with a little boy.

"Special Agent Will Graham," Will says tightly. "If we could come in and ask a few questions...?"

"Of course, come in," Budge says as he ushers the boy out.

As the door shut behind him, Will realizes that he's now trapped with three beating hearts, all slightly elevated but one taking a lead with excited gallop. Will bullshits his way through questioning for a few minutes but he soon arrives at the end of his rope. He tosses a feeble excuse and heads out.

The thick door behind him gives him some reprieve. He dare not step too far away from the shop itself, however, fearing that he'd be hearing the heartbeats of passing people instead. 

Feeling more human after having the time to compose himself, Will turns back and opens the door. A delicious smell hits him hard the moment he steps in, nearly sending him to his knees. With a nauseating feeling, Will realizes that the delicious smell is blood. There's the officer's body on the floor and all he wants to do is crawl over it and suck it dry.

 _No, no, no, no, no,_ a small part of his mind yells frantically. Will doesn't know what to do. Outside of the door, there are people with their blood thrumming under the thin layer of their skin, and in front of him is food that is going to be cooled and wasted if he doesn't gulp it down soon. 

His fevered mind somehow manages to find the door that leads downstairs. This is his only chance. Will holds his breath and rushes toward it. Slamming the door shut behind him, Will sinks down to the ground. 

With the immediate presence of the blood gone, Will can somewhat think again. He needs to call someone. He fumbles for his phone. He doesn't have a lot of word in him. He pulls off one glove with his teeth and speed dials Jack, squeezes out a pitful "Jack," and hangs up. Jack would know what to do. Will puts his phone in silence. 

Will wants to knock himself unconscious at this point. But of course he has to hear a small, squelching sound, a flesh being parted. 

He forgot that the two officers with one dead body equals _the killer is still in the basement with the other officer._ There still is a person to save. 

Will wants to scream but he doesn't really have a choice. He pulls off the other glove as well and stuffs them into his pockets.

The basement isn't dark as Will feared. As he goes in, the stench of blood gets stronger again, making his head spin. He buries his nose under the scarf. The scarf might as be a noose in this situation but he needs it in order not to lose it. He can only hear one set of heartbeat. It's not the officer's. Will doesn't question how he can hear it. He aims at where the sound is coming from and fires. 

A loud swearing comes, and suddenly there is a large body leaping in front of him. Will instinctively dodges the punch coming his way, and returns the punch to the shoulder. He didn't think he'd put that much power into it, but Budge is soaring through the air, landing with a huge crash as the glass jars shatter. 

Will's frozen in the middle, _What the hell_ being the never ending background. Budge scrambles up. He glares at Will's way, but rather than going for another round, he opts for running.

Will should pursue him. Yet the shock roots him on the spot just a minute too long. When Will runs up to the ground floor at last, it's to see Budge driving away like a man possessed.

Where could he be going, Will questions himself. Budge would want to take care of his unfinished business before he can disappear for good. What kind of unfinished business? Hannibal said that Budge had a friend. Does Budge suspect that his friend was behind Will's surprise visit? Likely. Where's the friend? Will calls Hannibal to ask him. Doctor Patient confidentiality be damned, a man's life can depend on it. But the ringing continues without anyone answering it. It could be anything really, but the cold, dreadful certainty tells Will that the friend must be in therapy with Hannibal.

-

Will doesn't know where he found the wherewithal to drive all the way to Hannibal's office, but he manages it somehow.

He staggers out of the car and stumbles his way up the stairs. He throws the door open and is once again engulfed with the delightful coppery smell.

"Will?" Hannibal asks from near his harpsichord. His hair is falling into his eyes and his breathing is slightly uneven, but he's still standing strong, the sole heartbeat in the room. It's creating a relieved, giddy rhythm.

"Can I come in?" Will asks. He's not thinking of manners. He feels too far away for that. It's just that he needs Hannibal's permission before he could go in.

Hannibal looks down at Budge's corpse down on the floor. "It's a bit of a mess, but yes."

Will barrels in as soon as he hears the word yes. He's not thinking. He jumps before Hannibal can react and tosses him down to the floor, opposite to where Budge is lying dead. Will's not interested in Budge. It's a fresh kill but it's not as fresh as a live prey. And the prey is already wounded.

Stradling the man down, Will breaks his left wrist when he tries to push him away. The prey keeps buckling. Will pins down the other wrist on the floor and puts a threatening weight onto it. That stops the movement. Will uses his one free hand to pull the tie out and open up the buttons. When the smooth line of the jugular reveals itself, Will licks his lips and sinks in his teeth. 

Will can't help but moan as the blood hits his tongue. It's smooth like velvet, sweet like molten chocolate, alive and vibrant like nothing he's ever tasted. He laps up every sip greedily as the red fountain keeps giving up. He's lost in a hazy pleasure when he hears a small whimper.

It's not his own. It's his prey's.

Hannibal.

It's like being suddenly dumped with cold water. Hannibal doesn't whimper. He doesn't. Yet he's making that sound because, because-

Because Will is killing him.

"Oh, God, fuck, fuck, fuck," Will says as he scrambles backward. He should be vomiting but he can't. He feels satiated for the first time in a long while and he can't give it up. Even now he's greedily licking the leftovers around his mouth, and holy fucking jesus, what the fuck is wrong with him?

For a while, there's only a mingled staccato of their breathing, panting. Hannibal's heartbeat is running fast, accusing. Will doesn't want to hear it anymore. He covers his ears, wills everything to be silent. It works.

Until,

"Will."

The hands on his ears don't stop Hannibal's voice from being penetrating.

"I- I'm so sorry," Will stutters. "Are you okay?" He winces as the words leave his mouth. 

"I'm okay," Hannibal says. His voice is unbelievably calm given the situation. "Will, is the police coming this way?"

 _To arrest me?_ Will thinks hysterically but then he remembers why he came all the way to here in the first place. Budge. Oh god, he assaulted Hannibal when the man had already fought off one maniac trying to kill him.

"I- I called Jack when I was in the shop," Will tries to explain. "They wouldn't know yet that Budge came here."

"Good," Hannibal says. "Then we have some time."

"Are you going to kill me?" Will whispers. He'd deserve it if Hannibal wanted to. Will would fucking help.

Will flinches as one hand squeezes his shoulder. The scent of blood is so close but it's not as overpowering as before. 

"Do you feel like attacking me again, Will?" Hannibal asks carefully.

Will shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Will, I need you to look at the puncture wound."

 _Puncture wound_ , God, that sounds so clinical. Still, Will looks, because Hannibal is asking him to and he's ready to do just about anything for the man right now.

His mouth automatically salivates at the sight of blood. He swallows and tries to focus.

"What do you see?" Hannibal asks gently.

Will thinks. He trembles. There are no round teeth marks. Only two deep holes.

"Not something human can make," Will says hoarsely. Hannibal's warm hand on his shoulder is the only thing that is anchoring him to the reality. He doesn't know how the man can bear to touch him right now, but he's so grateful for it.

"Yes," Hannibal says. "There's something going on with you, Will. You need help."

Will makes a choked up laughter. "Of course I do. I fucking attacked you."

"And no one must find that out."

Will's eyes snap to Hannibal's face. The psychiatrist looks utterly serious. "What?"

"What were you thinking when you attacked me, Will?"

"That I was so hungry," Will answers honestly because he feels too confused for lies. 

"You wanted blood."

"Yeah, like some vampire," Will says, and that's when everything suddenly clicks in. No reflection in the mirror, heigthened hearing, sensitivity to light, the inability to enter without permission. He wants to deny it but the puncture wound on Hannibal is the solid proof. "Oh my god," he whimpers.

"It's hard to believe but that's the only conclusion we can draw," Hannibal says, his voice steady, grounding Will before he could slip into despair. "I don't want you to be processed and be prodded for your condition later on." 

"You want to protect me."

"Yes."

"Why?" Will asks brokenly.

"Because you're my friend, Will." Hannibal's eyes are earnest. "I was so afraid when I thought Budge had killed you."

Will closes his eyes, overwhelmed in a different way. He doesn't know what he's done to deserve this loyalty.

"We'll go through this together. Would you allow me to help, Will?"

It's in that moment Will registers how stressful the whole day has been, how tightly wound up he was, struggling alone. Tears threaten to fall from the sudden relief that courses through his vein. Maybe it's Hannibal's blood in his body that's holding him together. It's a morbid thought but fitting, considering the situation.

"You've always been my paddle," is the only thing Will can say.


End file.
